astrophysics you'll never be my closest friend
by youaremybeginning
Summary: Basically, exactly what the title says. Just a collection of Skulduggery fictions, varying in length, pairing and theme. Read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

Valkyrie was having a wonderful time.

She was currently sat in the compartment of a ferris wheel, admiring the view. It was a large one, she noted.

She turned her head to look at Fletcher, who in turn was looking rather pale. "What's the matter?" she asked.

Fletcher didn't move.

"Fletcher, are you.. are you afraid of heights?"

Fletcher nodded imperceptibly.

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence, and then...

"VALKYRIE! STOP SHAKING THE COMPARTMENT!"

* * *

><p><em>I have too many ideas in my head.<em>

_This will be updated weekly..._

_Feel free to suggest pairings. _

_I'll do any :3_


	2. Chapter 2

Clarabelle has always liked pretty things.

Flowers. People. Places.

She especially likes the corpse that occupies the morgue three doors down. It has long pale limbs and cold pale skin – it's rather lovely, Clarabelle thinks.

Alas, for some unfathomable reason, Kenspeckle won't let her near it.

So, when she sees Valkyrie Cain's beautiful black coat, she immediately wants it. The material is drawn tight over the other girls body, fitting so snugly it is almost a second skin, as dark as her eyes and exquisitely long hair.

Consequently, Clarabelle thinks it only polite to ask if she can have it. Valkyrie takes everything in stride, it seems, and is only midly alarmed by Clarabelle's questions. Pity.

After Valkyrie has left, with the coat, Clarabelle takes a moment to visit the corpse. As she gazes down at it, she wonders idly, if it's the coat she wants, or the girl wearing it.

* * *

><p><em>My musings.<em>

_There's more to come ~_


	3. Chapter 3

China Sorrows is a person who is incapable of love. She does not love her brother, the only family she has left, nor does she love her own Gods. She spends each day in a perusal of books, the only things she can truly rely on.

Many people have fallen in love with China Sorrows. They have become enamored, endeavored, obsessed. They fanatically worship her as she once worshiped her Faceless Ones. But it is never enough. Nobody is ever good enough - nothing is ever good enough.

China Sorrows is lonely. She longs for someone who does not love her for her face, or her body, or her possessions.

She waits for the day somebody will teach her how to love.

* * *

><p><em>Poor China. I love you!<em>

_Oh well._


	4. Chapter 4

"I think Fletcher Junior would be perfect."

"Fletcher, if we have children – and that is a very big if – we are not calling any of them Fletcher Junior. End of story."

"You say that now, but-"

"Fletcher, I said no."

"But Val..."

"You won't be able to produce children if you don't shut up, Fletcher. Now let me read in peace."

Fletcher turned away and huffed. Valkyrie continued to read her book.

"... I love you."

Valkyrie smiled.

"I know. I love you too, you idiot."

* * *

><p><em>Ridiculous as his hair, that boy is.<em>

_You've gotta love him._


	5. Chapter 5

Murder Rose is an exceptionally talented student.

She excels in everything she does. She is intelligent and strong, with looks to boot. Many want her. Many want to be her. But Murder is far too fickle for relationships and jealousy.

Murder has always fancied herself as bit of a Necromancer. That is, before she became decidedly evil. She certainly looks the part, all strapped up in her leather. Death is a concept that intrigues her, entices her. She wants to learn more about it, perhaps to be able to control it, rather than _it_ control _her_.

Murder Rose is afraid of nothing, not even death. She only wishes to conquer it. She is taught, for a while, in the Necromancer's Temple. There isn't a single person that can keep up with her. Her shadows are as strong as her will.

That is, until she is introduced to Morwenna Crow. Morwenna is a powerful sorcerer, with magic at her fingertips. She doesn't take kindly to fools and her tongue is like quicksilver, but she is wise, beyond her years.

Murder Rose has never been afraid of anything, but when Morwenna Crow flattens her with one swish of the hand, she feels fear for the first time in forever. Not because this is the first person in a long time to be able to best her, but because she thinks that maybe, just maybe, Muder Rose is a little bit in love with Morwenna Crow.

As Murder nurses a broken arm, she prays Morwenna won't break her heart.

* * *

><p><em>My pathetic attempt at a CrowRose._

_Oh dear, I hadn't contemplated this relationship before..._


	6. Chapter 6

Eliza Scorn was ten years old when she met China Sorrows.

Eliza was small and pretty with long red hair and blue eyes. She had white skin and the best dresses. Outside, Eliza was pretty.

Inside, Eliza was ugly.

She loved the praise, the approval. She was vain and she knew it.

That is, until China waltzed onto the scene - China, with her magnificent raven hair and her pale, pale eyes. China, with her unblemished skin and pretty little face. China, with her finely tailored clothes and perfect manners.

It was always China this, China that.

Eliza detested her. With every fibre in her being, Eliza hated her, was repulsed by her. Eliza was vain, and Eliza was jealous. Her only comfort was that China, inside, was as ugly as she was.

* * *

><p><em>I've become obsessed with the dynamic duo that is Scorn and Sorrows.<em>

_Enjoy._


	7. Chapter 7

China Sorrows is a beautiful woman.

Many men and women have fallen in love with her, with her dark hair and the symbols that adorn her perfect body. But each are turned down; each are left broken hearted. She leaves destruction and desolation in her wake, the only weapon her face.

Morwenna Crow is a beautiful woman.

Perhaps not as beautiful as Miss Sorrows – who is? But beautiful enough, with pale skin and crimson lips. She, too, leaves destruction and desolation in her wake; with the tendrils of shadows that curl around her. There are many that lust after her, and there are many that feel the harsh bite of her words against their skin.

Both are intelligent, with wit and cunning. Both are strong, robust and enduring.

They are more alike than they will ever know.

* * *

><p><em>In my strange mind, perhaps they are.<em>

_Anymore suggestions?_

_I'll do anything ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

Skulduggery Pleasant is a man – well, a being – of mystery.

He exudes an air of confidence. He is suave, sophisticated, charming and debonair. He is the sort of person that is unrivaled by others and he knows it.

Skulduggery Pleasnt is also a man – well, a being – of anger.

It is twisted and rotten and decaying inside of him. He is fueled by that very anger, the hatred and contempt. It has left him jaded and putrescent and he knows it.

But Skulduggery Pleasant, enigmatic, furious, slightly insane, is also a man – well, a being – of compassion.

He has killed, but he has loved. He has maimed, but he has treasured. He has made bad decisions and lamented each and every one, but there is one that he can never regret.

And that is Valkyrie.

* * *

><p><em>Because everybody seems to love Valduggery and I am just so emo.<em>

_Perhaps a lighter tone, next time..._


	9. Chapter 9

Kenspeckle Grouse is a man of many talents.

He has saved countless of lives, made both magical and scientific medical breakthroughs, and has aged considerably well if he does say so himself. Which he does, and which he can.

He is Kenspeckle Grouse, after all.

* * *

><p><em>One of my favourite characters. Wait, what am I saying?<em>

_I love them all._

_Rest in peace, Kenspeckle. _


	10. Chapter 10

"My love for you is as pure and untainted as that of a unicorn."

"Wait - unicorns exist?"

"Of course not. I was merely using them as a metaphor. That would be highly ridiculous."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Say what? I love you?"

"No - thanks, by the way - why did you say 'unicorn' if they don't exist?"

"Because unicorns are considered to be very pure."

"Yes, but... never mind, Caelan."

* * *

><p><em>Caelan, whatever shall we do with you?<em>

_My little angsty emo._


	11. Chapter 11

Sometimes, when she is feeling a little lonely, Valkyrie will place a solemn finger to the cool glass of her mirror and let her reflection come to life. She doesn't even like her reflection - it's creepy and has been acting oddly ever since Skulduggery shot it - but the loneliness and solitude creeps in and makes her do stupid things.

The reflection never has anything nice to say. It never even smiles for Valkyrie, but strangely, that's the thing Valkyrie likes about it. She appreciates its bluntness, its inability to lie. She knows that she will never have to be anything but herself around the reflection. Sometimes she wishes it was that way with others, but it's a cruel world and Valkyrie has learned to live with that cruelness.

When she is bored, or feels a little better, she will tell the reflection to return to the mirror. It always does as told, even if it is getting more confident. More human.

And Valkyrie pretends she doesn't see the marginal flash of hurt that she witnesses in her eyes - in the reflections eyes - every time she orders it away.

Because it's a strange, cruel world.

* * *

><p><em>The reflection has always made me suspicious.<em>

_I sense something going on there..._

_Insert dramatic music here._


	12. Chapter 12

Carol and Crystal. Crystal and Carol.

It's never just Carol, or just Crystal. It's always the both of them, stuck together, one personality, one individual. There is no distinction. After sixteen years of the same treatment, Carol and Crystal revolt. They go to drastic measures, hair dye and diet plans. Nothing seems to work, only serves to rile their father up.

_'What on Earth is that filth in your hair? You've not been hanging around with weirdos, have you?' _

He says it to the both of them. He doesn't seem to realize it's only of them with red hair. Doesn't seem to realize they are separate people. Doesn't seem to realize how different they really are.

Crystal is Crystal.

Carol is Carol.

They hope that one day, people will see that.

* * *

><p><em>I can only write these two in a depressing manner.<em>

_Oh, dear._


	13. Chapter 13

Finbar Wrong is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Or in the cupboard. Or... wherever it is people keep their knives. But he is by no means stupid.

Sure, usually, he can't even tell left from right, and he lost little Thaddeus the other day (turned out he was behind the sofa), but that doesn't mean he's stupid. Speaking of Thaddeus, Finbar can't find him, and Sharon gets upset when he misplaces him. She throws things at him.

He doesn't like it when Sharon throws things. She has an uncanny aim.

He stands up, puts down the needle and tells his customer he'll be right back. Then he starts prowling the room, in search of his son, upturning boxes and opening drawers. His customer, a girl with bright blue hair, watches him quietly as he does so. Then there is a knock at the door and Finbar makes his way downstairs.

When he opens the door, he is greeted with an irascible looking Valkyrie, who is balancing Thaddeus on her hip. Thaddeus is chewing on a piece of her hair contentedly. "You left him in the Bentley," she says.

"Dude! You like, found him!" Finbar smiles as he takes Thad, who gives a piteous wail. Valkyrie says 'goodbye' and makes to leave, but Finbar stops her. "Hey Val, d'you want a tattoo or something? You know, for saving this little fella."

Valkyrie stops and a look of excitement crosses her face. That is, until Skulduggery slaps his hand on the horn of the Bentley, which is parked, waiting, across the road. Finbar grins in the general vicinity of the car, and looks back at Valkyrie. "Too bad, Val. Maybe next time, huh? You can still come in for some, whatcha-ma-callit... that thing you drink. Tea."

"I'll pass, thanks. Bye bye, Thaddy." Valkyrie waves at Thaddeus and walks over to the slick black car, which drives off as soon as she gets in. Finbar doesn't close the door and meanders back into the house. He walks back upstairs, hands the chick with the hair Thad and resumes inking her body.

"So I don't lose him," Finbar explains. The girl just nods and smiles as Thaddeus chews on her hair.

* * *

><p><em>I have no idea what possessed me to write this.<em>

_I've always wondered what Finbar would call his baby. _


	14. Chapter 14

Nefarian Serpine is not what you would call 'mentally stable'.

It's a ridiculous notion, really. Of course he is mentally stable. He just has a flair for the dramatic. And torture... which doesn't help on the stability front, but he doesn't care. He is Nefarian Serpine, untouchable and dangerous. He doesn't have to care.

So what he doesn't understand is why he hasn't killed the boy with the annoying hair yet. He genuinely doesn't. Perhaps it is because the brat is amusing, or perhaps it is because Nefarian is truly insane, like so many proclaim. Whatever the reason, Nefarian finds himself in deep conversation with a pest half his age. "This is a pretty gloomy place you have here, isn't it? What's wrong with a little bit of sunshine? I like the sun. Nobody seems to anymore."

"Will you cease your pointless babble? You're giving me a headache," Nefarian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The brat - Fletcher - apparently doesn't hear him or chooses to ignore him. Either way, Nefarian wants to kill him even more. "Tell me, brat, how is it you came across here?"

Fletcher's face turns rather red. "Um, well, you see..."

"Do not test me."

Fletcher combs a hand through his hair, which appears to be defying gravity. "I'm a teleporter. I teleported here." Neferian raises a perfectly arched brow. "I was under the impression teleporters had to have seen or been in a place before teleporting." Fletcher falters.

"Oh, bloody hell. I was bored and I just thought, well... I thought about going somewhere _hot_ and all of a sudden I'm here, with _you_!"

Nefarian smiles. "Well, I am rather handsome, aren't I?"

* * *

><p><em>Because I can.<em>

_Come on. Don't tell me it wouldn't be totally hot if they did._

_Aha._


	15. Chapter 15

Doctor Nye has never been known for its kindness.

Nye is not a lovable character. Nye is not even good-looking. In fact, Nye is rather grotesque.

When the corpse on Nye's examining table suddenly wakes and lets out a blood curdling scream, Nye thinks it annoying. It screams and screams, terror in its eyes, its pathetic body writhing on the cold table.

Nye thinks it only appropriate to sew its mouth shut. Nye is silent as it works, twisting the needle this way and that, through the flesh of the corpse. All that can be heard are muffled cries. Tears mingle with blood and Nye smiles.

Let it never be said Nye is kind.

* * *

><p><em>Pointless gore, really.<em>

_I happen to like Nye._


	16. Chapter 16

Civet and Stentor; what a pair.

They'd known each other since before they could remember. They went to school together, went to all the same places, practically lived in one another's houses. They did everything together.

When Kenspeckle Grouse offered Civet a job, Civet demanded he take on Stentor as well, even though Stentor had no interest in anything medical. Kenspeckle grudgingly allowed it and the two began work.

It seemed only fitting that as they lived together, they died together. Civet watched as Stentor's life was taken, crushed by a God he didn't believe in. And perhaps Civet was glad, just a little bit, when the Grotesquery killed him too.

It was painful and messy and demeaning. But death was welcomed. Because life wasn't really worth living without Stentor around, and Civet was ashamed it took so long to realize it.

* * *

><p><em>I like making myself cry. Odd, isn't it?<em>

_I like to think they were in love because I like happy endings, OK? ...Except for the unhappy one above._

_Somebody suggest a pairing or theme._

_Challenge me._


	17. Chapter 17

"Well, this is awkward."

"It's only awkward if you make it awkward, Valkyrie."

Pause.

"I guess I just made it awkward."

Valkyrie knows that if he had a face, Skulduggery would be smiling. She has a nagging suspicion that he is holding back laughter, but that might just be paranoia.

"I guess you did," Skulduggery replies, watching the road. Valkyrie groans and puts her head into her hands.

"How are you OK with this? You saw me... naked," she grumbles. Skulduggery doesn't look away from the road. "Technically, I saw your reflection naked. There is a difference," he says.

"There is no difference!"

"I suppose you have a point."

"Of course I have a point. I'm me."

"Was that a freckle on your thigh?"

The car swerves as Valkyrie punches Skulduggery.

* * *

><p><em>I'd love to have known what happened after that chapter.<em>

_I can imagine, at least._


	18. Chapter 18

"Hurry up and get it over with."

His voice is strained, the words pushed through gritted teeth.

"You are in no place to order me around."

Its voice is monotonous, if not slightly mirthful. It is enjoying this.

"That may be true," sharp cry, "but I - I still will..."

His head lolls to the side as his eyes flutter shut. Nye sighs as it continues to rid Solomon's body of the deadly toxins running through it. The Necromancer had lain stiffly across the examining table beforehand, prim and proper even in excruciating pain.

But now, now the man lies gracefully across the table, exposed and ultimately vulnerable. Nye has no interest in the body, of course; Nye's only focus is the poison inside of it. But it cannot help cocking its head in mild intrigue.

It has seen many bodies before, all completely different. It has seen mutilated corpses, things past recognition; youthful bodies, dead before their time, and beings of supreme beauty. It has seen many a body like this before, but somehow, it is different.

Perhaps it is the way he holds himself, Nye muses. Whichever the reason, Nye doesn't genuinely care. It carries on with its work, and when it is done, Nye orders Clarabelle out. Clarabelle is not fazed and simply exits, with a knowing look in her eyes.

Nye will have to be careful with that one. It hums a little tune as it starts up its work again, filling the silence with an eerie din. It carves open Solomon's chest with grace and finesse, removing the heart and placing it in a tray almost lovingly. It then sews him back up with thick black string and wipes away the blood.

Then it proceeds to slice open its own chest and places the still beating heart into the cavity it has made. There was nothing there to begin with, and the sensation feels... strange, if not unwelcomed.

When Solomon wakes up, which he will, he will belong to Nye. Nye has never loved anything before; Nye will never love anything in the future. It is merely curious as to what it feels like - what it feels like to be loved. And Solomon certainly needs to learn how to love something other than himself.

* * *

><p><em>Solomon and Nye, you ask?<em>

_Just go with it. _


	19. Chapter 19

Billy-Ray Sanguine hated Mondays.

Something bad always seemed to happen to him, and today had been no exception. Firstly, he'd broken his sunglasses in a brawl. Secondly, he'd gotten blood all over himself after killing a man in said brawl. Thirdly, Dusk had ravaged him as soon as he arrived home because of the unfortunate spillage covering his body.

Apparently, it had made him look sexy.

Billy-Ray begged to differ, but Monday's were suddenly looking up.

* * *

><p><em>This is where I giggle profusely like the pervert I am.<em>

_Oh, the joys._


	20. Chapter 20

"Off with her head."

China's voice is calm, but her eyes are not. They betray what lies beneath the surface; a maelstrom of infinite abhorrence. Eliza smirks as guards march towards her, each pristinely white with portentous looking scythe's attached to their backs.

"You're stealing my line, dear," she says, standing tall. There is a smugness that surrounds her, and China finds it quite annoying.

"Is that so?" China muses as the guards surround the woman in red. They await her order, standing in neat formation so as to obscure any chance of escape. China smiles beautifully and lifts a regal hand. It is covered with a white glove.

"China, if I may?" Eliza interrupts, and the smugness increases tenfold. China does not let the irritation she feels show; she simply lowers her hand and folds both across her lap. She inclines her head politely.

"Off with your head," Eliza whispers, and then she laughs mercilessly as the skeleton emerges from the shadows. China is too late and the shock is etched onto her exquisite face permanently.

The head rolls to a stop at Eliza's feet. She stoops to pick it up, mindful of the blood; she presses a kiss to its lips and then smiles sweetly at the skeleton before her. Eliza glances at the guards around her and then...

"Off with his head."

* * *

><p><em>Eliza does not stike me as the nice type.<em>

_In fact, she's a bitch. But isn't she amazing?_

_I have a bit of an Alice complex. Do forgive._


	21. Chapter 21

"Would you like some tea, Valkyrie?"

Clarabelle stands up and brandishes an exquisite porcelain tea pot. Valkyrie smiles beatifically and nods. Her little porcelain cup is filled with hot liquid. "Thank you, Clarabelle," Valkyrie says, taking the cup gratefully.

"Think nothing of it," Clarabelle smiles, sitting down. She pours herself a cup and watches the steam rise from its depths. There is a vacancy in her dazzlingly blue eyes, something that makes Valkyrie think that perhaps she is not all there. But then again, neither is she, and who is she to judge?

"Somebody once told me you can see your future in the bottom of a cup," she murmurs, circling the rim of hers with a delicate finger. Valkyrie takes a sip of hers – the liquid scolds her throat pleasantly – and raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what do you see in yours?" she asks.

Clarabelle pauses, stops her circling. Valkyrie watches her hand distractedly. "I see... death," she replies in a soft voice, before looking up at Valkyrie. Valkyrie, in turn, stares back. There is some sort of frisson between the two, a sort of magnetism that connects them in those few moments.

It's at that moment Valkyrie begins to feel sluggish. Her eyelids flutter, her mouth parts faintly. Clarabelle watches as she slackens, leaning on the back of her chair heavily. "You – you poisoned me."

Her voice is weak and strangely, not accusing.

Clarabelle nods, her face almost melancholic. "I did. So we can be together," she explains, before taking a sip of her own cup.

* * *

><p><em>I have death in my head and it does me no good.<em>

_I should stop reading Shakespeare. Or drinking coffee._

_Anymore pairings?_


	22. Chapter 22

A fist flies to the side of her head, intent on delivering unconsciousness. She ducks, sweeps in low, tries to take her opponent out using her legs, but it's useless.

Tanith laughs as Valkyrie sends a sheet of shadows directly at her, kicking off the corner of a wall and attaching herself to the ceiling. The shadows shatter as they hit the floor, as does Valkyrie's hope. She knows she can't win this, but it doesn't stop her from trying.

She grits her teeth and summons a flame to her hand, manipulating the air beneath the flame to send it spiralling upwards and around Tanith. She doesn't want to hurt her, of course she doesn't, just the filthy Remnant inside of her.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Val," Tanith jeers, flipping and landing behind Valkyrie. She doesn't know how she avoided the all encompassing fire, but she doesn't consider it for long as a muscled arm wraps around her neck. It squeezes tighter and tighter, until black dots swarm Valkyrie's vision.

She can feel Tanith's blonde hair tickling her face, her hot breath washing over her, the warmth of her body behind her own. But she leans back into the hold, loosens it ever so slightly and pushes at the air with her hands feebly. It's still strong enough to send them both careening upwards, into the hard ceiling, and Tanith has to let go to avoid being clouted into oblivion.

Valkyrie drops, gasping, managing to slow her descent and find her footing. She whips around, shadows at the ready, looking for Tanith. There is nothing to give her away, nothing that will hand Valkyrie an advantage. Valkyrie feels the air, searching for her friend and the thing controlling her, but she comes up short. It seems like Tanith has vanished.

"Yoo-hoo, lil' darlin'?" a voice calls, distinctly Southern. Valkyrie snaps her head to the left and is greeted by a grinning Billy-Ray Sanguine. She instantly frowns, her dislike for the man almost as intense as her hatred for the Remnant.

"You mind bein' careful with my lady?" he asks, the wall crumbling around him. Valkyrie doesn't know how he's managing that, considering what she'd done to him, but he was and that instantly put her at a disadvantage. "Get out of here, Sanguine. I meant what I said," she says, fingers twitching. The shadows curl around her menacingly.

"Ooh, you got yourself some fancy new tricks?" he mocks, cocking an eyebrow. Valkyrie doesn't reply as she swipes her arm upwards, shards of shadows rocketing towards him. He yelps and leans back, the wall closing up, but one manages to sneak through and she hears his yelp of pain. It satisfies her somewhat.

"Coward," she mutters, shifting her position. Her eyes dart around the room, but Tanith is long gone. She knows it was stupid, coming after her, but she needed to. She needed her friend back, needed her to be there for her, and needed her laughter to brighten her days.

As she trudges out of the destroyed room and into the street, she pretends it isn't tears running down her face, because Valkyrie Cain is strong, and Valkyrie Cain cries for no one, not even Tanith Low.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, woe is me.<em>


	23. Chapter 23

"I love you."

"That's nice, Caelan."

"I do, honestly. My heart wishes to beat for you and only you."

"What happened to Valkyrie?"

"We had a disagreement."

"About?"

"My being gay."

"I can see how that would pose a problem."

"It doesn't matter now. Valkyrie helped me realize - realize how much I love _you_."

"Caelan, I am afraid I do not reciprocate."

"It's alright. I still love you."

Caelan smiles happily and hugs Erskine around his midsection. Erskine's left eye twitches. He thinks he needs to have a chat with one Valkyrie Cain - a _very_ long chat, indeed.

* * *

><p><em>Because crack makes the world go round.<em>


	24. Chapter 24

Two sets of large brown eyes watch him tentatively. It's rather irksome, he thinks; not that he'd ever say that out loud.

"Hello. I'm Skulduggery Pleasant. You two must be Crystal and Carol," he says, and if he could, he would be smiling politely.

Both sets of eyes blink simultaneously, unerringly. "Hello," one of them says, grasping the hand of the other. Both are small and pale, like porcelain. He thinks they would probably break as easily as porcelain, too, if one wasn't cautious enough.

"Hello," says the one on the left. "I'm Carol." She glances at her sister, who looks back. Some sort of unspoken message passes between them and they look back at Skulduggery. There is a moment of silence, one that Skulduggery thinks will never cease. He silently condemns Valkyrie for procuring the two out of nowhere and dumping them on him. He hadn't even known that they knew about Valkyrie, in contrast to Stephanie.

"We're sorry," one suddenly says. "For staring-"

"It's just that, given the circumstances-"

"It's understandable-"

"We mean, it's not every day-"

"You see a real live, walking-"

"Fully functioning-"

"Skeleton," Carol finishes, wide eyed. Skulduggery absorbs what they say, and nods calmly. "At least you two haven't fainted yet," he says whilst slipping his hands into his pockets. He means to look casual whilst gauging the girls reactions. "You mean, Valkyrie fainted?" Crystal asks, pink mouth quirking slightly.

"Indeed she did," he says. He waits for their reactions - looks of superiority, contempt, snickers or chortles. Just some semblance of who Valkyrie painted them out to be. Instead, they nod solemnly and seem very accepting of the situation. What strange girls, he muses, as Carol un-links hands with Crystal and steps forward to poke Skulduggery's forehead. She seems intrigued by the smoothness of his cranium. What strange girls, indeed.

* * *

><p><em>I have no idea where this went. It wrote itself, really. <em>

_Not really a pairing, either. But then, maybe it is._

_I'll get onto the other challenges sometime. _


	25. Chapter 25

Blood mingles with sweat. He pants, eyes shut, face contorted in pain.

He should be used to it by now, he thinks. Should be used to the constant torture. But each blow, each insult stings worse than the last, resonates through his mind and body. He wonders if Serpine has done something to him, something to make it feel like this, to make it feel so disgustingly abhorrent. But maybe that's just him.

"Skulduggery..."

His voice is melodic, soft, teasing. He beckons him, beckons his battered body. Skulduggery's still sore from the last time, aching in his lower back and shoulders. He aches in other places, too, but he cannot complain. He just hopes death will come soon.

* * *

><p><em>If only Serpine wasn't such an evil person.<em>

_Dead, too. He can't do much dead._

_Hmm._


	26. Chapter 26

"It seems as though you are lacking in co-ordination."

"I'm sorry. I am not usually this clumsy."

Solomon smiles easily and wraps a long fingered hand around Skulduggery's arm. It is warm and unclothed, the smooth flesh tantalizing as it is forbidden. He hauls him up and steps backwards so that there is space between the two. Skulduggery's expression is sheepish, and his eyes are the most amazing _cyan cerulean manganese sky cobalt_, so vivid and haunting, speckled with gold and amber. Solomon's chest constricts almost painfully; he is enchanted with the being that is Skulduggery Pleasant.

But he knows not to fool himself, knows that what he wants isn't normal and that Skulduggery is most definitely interested in pretty girls, with their long ruffled skirts and rouged cheeks; more importantly, their smooth, luscious curves. He is not interested by what Solomon has to offer, hard planes and hard ... you get the gist.

Skulduggery claps him on the shoulder jovially. "Thank you. I don't know what has gotten into me today," he chuckles, trailing his strong hand down Solomon's arm. Solomon breathes sharply through his nose and reprimands himself for acting like a love struck teenager. Which he sort of is, but he detests to act like one. He nods, sinfully dark hair falling into one side of his face, and bids Skulduggery goodbye. He will undoubtedly see him again, with his golden skin and lovely _sienna bistre umber russet sepia _hair, which he longs to run his fingers through and-

"Solomon? Where are you going?" Skulduggery asks, all wide eyed and perfectly innocent. Solomon frowns. Skulduggery Pleasant does not do innocent, and Solomon wagers he never will. He leans in and fans his sweet breath over his face, eyebrows furrowed and utterly kissable_ rose carmine thulian amaranth _mouth twisted into a frown. "To my quarters. It is becoming late," Solomon manages.

"Oh, I see. Would you like for me to accompany you?"

Solomon's heart skips a beat.

"No, thank you, Skulduggery. I am fine."

Skulduggery's hopeful expression turns to something else. "Perhaps I should be more forward, Solomon," he murmurs before leaning in to press his lips to Solomon's own.

* * *

><p><em>I picture this from when they were truly young, probably around the 1920's ?<em>

_I'm not sure. The Solomon in my head is a romantic at heart._

_Heh._


	27. Chapter 27

"Trick or treat!"

Skulduggery stands at the door, bowl of candy in hand, staring down at the small child in front of him. She is dressed in a black robe and a wizard's hat; on her forehead a red lightning bolt is painted and she is bespectacled. "Hello, Alice. Happy Halloween," he says, bending down for the girl to reach into the bowl. "I'm not Alice," she explains, taking a handful of sweets and thanking Skulduggery. "I'm Harry today. Harry Potter."

She drops the sweets into a plastic cauldron. They make a pleasing sound as they fill it. "Oh, my mistake. I'm very sorry, Harry. Where's your sister?" he asks, standing up. "Don't you mean Rowena and Helga?" pseudo-Harry asks, popping a sweet into her mouth. She chews it as Skulduggery's eyebrows knit together. He is wearing his facade today, so as to not scare the children. He'd wanted to keep his skull, but Valkyrie had insisted on a full human persona. Something about cruelty. He'd stopped listening after a while.

"Hello, Skul."

Skulduggery looks up. He is greeted by a grinning Tanith and Valkyrie; Tanith wears her hair long and loose around her, a long black robe encasing her body. A 'Hufflepuff' crest lies on her chest and the robe is tied with a woven yellow band. Valkyrie is much the same with the black robe, except she displays a 'Ravenclaw' badge and a blue band. Her hair is up, and on her forehead lies an exquisite jewel that looks oddly like a diadem. "Hey, Harry. Don't run off again, okay?" Valkyrie says to Alice, who replies with, "Of course Lady Ravenclaw. Sorry."

Skulduggery stares at them all incredulously. "Stephanie-"

"Lady Ravenclaw."

"...Lady Ravenclaw, just what exactly are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you to give me sweets."

Valkyrie-Stephanie-Lady Ravenclaw smiles and holds out her cauldron. Skulduggery stops talking and merely hands out some sweets between the three. Until Fletcher turns up, dressed as 'Draco Malfoy.' He shuts the door then.

* * *

><p><em>Happy Halloween, everybody.<em>

_I could so see this happening._


	28. Chapter 28

"Now I don't care what you think as long as it's about me, the best of us can find happiness in misery..."

Valkyrie stares. And stares some more.

"Valkyrie, may I inquire as to why you're staring at me? Aside from the fact I'm amazing," Skulduggery asks, turning the radio down a few notches.

Valkyrie blinks. There is no way she could have just witnessed Skulduggery singing along to Fall Out Boy. No way at all.

Skulduggery waits for an answer, then turns the radio back up when he doesn't recieve one. He hums along as they drive, the bass resonating thickly.

"Skulduggery, why are you listening to_ Fall Out Boy_?" she manages. Skulduggery glances at her, then says, "Don't you like them? I'd put in some headphones, but... I don't have any ears."

* * *

><p><em>I've not uploaded for a while. My apologies. <em>

_Seven exams can take up a persons time._

_Also, Fall Out Boy are epic._


	29. Chapter 29

"Hello," the little girl smiles.

"Hello. Where are your parents?" the woman asks.

The little girl pauses, cherubic and lovely. "They're dead."

The woman has no reply. She merely looks down at the child.

There is silence. It is heavy and unbroken, until one of them speaks.

"What's your name?"

The little girl twirls a finger around a lock of hair. "Alice. Alice Edgley."

* * *

><p><em>Oh no.<em>

_Sweet, psychopathic little girls. _


	30. Chapter 30

The room is dark, silent. A girl sits alone, crying in the corner.

She does not cry aloud; the tears merely run down her cheeks, creating a dark patch on her shirt. She slumps against the wall, legs spread haphazardly, arms crossed over her midsection. Crimson liquid pools onto the material covering her, leaks down and into the carpet. Her life force is slowly draining away through a few slashes, created through shame and the sinister darkness lurking in the back of her mind.

It talks to her, sometimes, the thing in the back of her head, clinging to the recesses of herself. She hates it, wishes it was gone, but that's exactly what the voice thinks about her, too.

It leads her to this, broken and bleeding on her bedroom floor, heartbeat slowly dwindling as the blood steadily departs. It's a fitting way to go, she thinks, staring out of her window. There is no moon in the sky, no light to guide her through her desolately desperate, pathetic times. Just darkness, all encompassing and dysphoric.

She closes her eyes and lets the darkness take her.

* * *

><p><em>...<em>


	31. Chapter 31

"Why do you keep me here?" she wonders aloud, lay on the counter top.

"Cease your talk," it sighs, back turned. It turns around, white coat fastened to the collar, concealing its body from her view, yet she still cranes her neck to catch a look. "Much too curious," it sighs once again, pulling its plastic glove up. It returns to the seat next to the table and begins its work once again, stuffing a strange sort of material up into the girl's arm, watching as it fills out and begins to look human.

Stitches cover her body, their blackness and her paleness contrasting eerily. They give her an almost un-human appearance, which strikes close to the truth. "When will you be finished?" she inquires, looking up at its scabbed face without disgust. She knows nothing in the ways of the word, and thus has no opinion of beauty or ugliness. Besides, it is her creator; she shouldn't dislike it, even if she does.

"Impertinent, aren't you? Soon," it answers, attaching a white forearm to the crease of her elbow. It stitches along the area, closing the gap, weaving within it magic and granting the object life. She waits patiently until it is finished, then makes an irritable noise as she realizes it has not secured her hand yet. She is eager to wriggle her fingers, to feel the cool metal of the table upon which she lies. "We will be done soon, rest assured. For now, you must be patient," it says, getting up from the chair.

"Why are you leaving?" she asks, turning her head to watch it leave. "Mind your business," it calls, shuffling out of the doorway.

And so Eliza does.

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by Sally and Dr. Finkelstein; The Nightmare Before Christmas.<em>


	32. Chapter 32

The mirror is pristine, reflecting everything in its sight.

Ghastly looks at himself morbidly. He doesn't know why he tortures himself like this; doesn't know why he watches his disgusting reflection until the tears fill his eyes and the reflection blurs. He remembers how the children at school used to stop and stare, either repulsed or amused by his misfortune, how they used to laugh cruelly and taunt him with ignorant words.

Perhaps that's why I do this, he thinks, raising a hand to trace the contours of his face. His flesh is warm and unforgiving, scarred and ugly. He detests it, detests the very feel of it, just like every other person who comes across him. Then he raises the other hand and brings it to the mirror, which is cold and just as unforgiving, but smooth and something that he is not. He feels even more pathetic, being jealous of a mirror, but he can't help it.

He doesn't let the tears flow. He simply puts down both hands and gives himself one last stare before walking away. _It doesn't matter what I look like anyway,_ he thinks, _because I will never be good enough for __**her**__._

* * *

><p><em>Sticks and stones may break his bones...<em>

_Ghastly, what a fitting name._


	33. Chapter 33

"Where am I?"

"Where are you, or what are you? There is a difference, you know," the cat comments, flicking her tail back and forth. She smiles beguilingly at the confused look that passes over the young girl's face.

"Where am I?" she repeats, looking up at the cat as she perches high upon a branch. The cat merely smirks; the girl takes that as refusal and instead asks, "Fine. _What_ am I?"

"You're not anything you think you are, therefore being something you think you're not, but you are not anything you may think, so you're hardly anything at all, are you?" the cat replies, licking a stripe down her hand and patting at her red ears. The girl pauses, letting the words sink in, then says, "What do _you_ think I am?"

The cat's eyes widen imperceptibly. "I think you're you," she murmurs, before disappearing into the gloom that surrounds them. The girl stares at the spot the cat once occupied, struck still by shock. "I've always hated cats," she grumbles, then turns and walks towards the sound of people cheering.

* * *

><p><em>Eliza and Valkyrie, for those who wonder.<em>

_Based off Alice in Wonderland; Alice and the Cheshire Cat._


	34. Chapter 34

Kenspeckle is ill.

It is a monumental occasion, as Kenspeckle very rarely gets ill. He remedies it immediately with a concoction brewed in the lab, but the effects of his cold make him subdued and thoughtful. He sips some green tea, contemplating his own mortality, when Clarabelle appears before him, holding something delicately in her small hands. "Clarabelle, dear. What are you doing?"

"You're ill." It is not a question. Kenspeckle nods slightly and gestures to his tea. "I'm fine now."

"My rabbit got ill. Then he died. It might have been the carrots I was feeding him, though. They were rather green," she frowns, eyes glazing. "I don't particularly want you to die," Clarabelle continues. She hands her load to Kenspeckle before saying, "I hope I don't get ill," then wandering into the stock room, to do Lord knows what. Kenspeckle chuckles wearily, used to the self employed girl's ... eccentric ways.

He looks at what Clarabelle has given him. It is a 'Get Well Soon!' card, with a picture of a thermometer on the front. It's glittery and simply awful; the glue which Clarabelle used to apply it is not dried properly. Inside it reads, 'Get well soon, Kenspeckle. Love, me. Clarabelle. Your assistant.' in cursive writing. Kenspeckle ignores the crash from inside the stock room, and, putting his cup down, folds the card neatly and puts it in his top pocket, where he will undoubtedly treasure it for years to come.

* * *

><p><em>I decided to do something lighter, happier.<em>

_I'm better at things concerning death, though._


	35. Chapter 35

"Please, Skulduggery?"

"I said no. That means no, Valkyrie."

Valkyrie glares at the flesh-less man and places her hands on her hips. "Skulduggery, you were trapped with the Faceless Ones for almost an entire _year_. How bad could a petting zoo be?"

Skulduggery remains quiet and examines his hands speculatively. "For some unfathomable reason, animals seem to dislike me. Except dogs, which love me. They like to run off with little pieces of me. I had to hunt down a Doberman with my humerus, once."

"Are you a man, or not?" Valkyrie grumbles.

"Actually, I'm a skeleton."

"I'm well aware of that, Skulduggery. Think about how disappointed Alice will be if we don't go."

"I'm sure she'll understand. She's a very mature three year old."

"Get in the car," Valkyrie deadpans.

There is a pause, in which Valkyrie sends many glares towards the skeleton before her. "Fine," Skulduggery agrees. "But I'm not getting out of it."

* * *

><p><em>My next door neighbor is terrified of small animals. Strange man, indeed.<em>


	36. Chapter 36

They lie side by side, face to face, palm to palm.

His skin is sweaty and hers is bloodied. Their child lies between them, eyes unseeing and chest unmoving.

He wishes he could take away her pain; she wishes she could take away his whilst escaping her own.

She departs with a silent 'I love you'. He cradles their corpses until the tears refuse to fall and all he can feel is fury.

All he wanted was a happily ever after.

* * *

><p><em>Christina Perri has a wonderful voice. She inspires well.<em>


	37. Chapter 37

"I am a very dangerous being of terror and anything else you may associate with that particular word."

"You're a great big pansy."

"No, I'm not. I'm a -"

"Dangerous being of terror, or so you say."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've not exactly proven me otherwise."

Caelan's eye twitches. He tries not to rip out Fletcher's vocal chords, because he knows it will upset Valkyrie. Instead, he breathes deeply, which is a pointless action as he is dead, and grimaces at Fletcher. He was actually trying to smile, but Fletcher's face makes his insides want to curdle.

"See? I annoyed you but you won't even retaliate. You're not scary."

"Why do you sound like you are trying to appease yourself?"

"Why do you use words I don't understand?"

"Imbecile."

"Emo."

* * *

><p><em>I never really saw the two getting along. They make for amusing arguments, though.<em>


	38. Chapter 38

The cat's words play over in her head as she walks up an abandoned path, treading carefully over what looks to be broken porcelain and mangled silverware.

The sound of people conversing reaches her ears, deep melodic voices and high soprano lilts. She wanders down the path at a faster pace, eager to find civilization but apprehensive towards the people that seem to inhabit the strange place she resides in. She reaches a gnarled gate, one that branches out from the roots of a tree, and pushes it gently, surprised when it unfurls and nudges her in before resuming its previous position.

"Surely I'm dreaming..." she murmurs, staring at the gate in wonder. "I'm afraid not," a voice says from behind her; she spins around swiftly and looks at what appears to be a living skeleton, donning a top hat and an exquisitely tailored suit. "Hello. Who are you?" it asks in a smooth voice, raising a hand for her to presumably shake. She stares at the hand, then at the skeleton, which seems to be male, before managing a quiet, "I'm me."

"Hello, me. My name is Skulduggery, although I'm also me. How odd," Skulduggery says, grasping her hand and placing it into his own. He shakes firmly, then releases her and spins on his heel. "Follow me," he calls, before striding into a gap between the collection of gargantuan trees surrounding them. She pinches her arm quickly and winces when it hurts, then follows the skeleton into the gap and questions her own sanity.

* * *

><p><em>Everybody does, now and then.<em>


	39. Chapter 39

"I'm still wonderin' how we got here," Jack says, fretting his spoon with long, spidery fingers.

"As am I," his companion replies, staring at the concoction before him. Thick, gooey mass lies in a crystalline bowl - it is pink and tastes oddly like strawberries, as does the sauce drizzled over it. He spoons some out and places it upon his tongue hesitantly again; saccharine sweetness assaults his mouth.

"What flavour you got?" Jack asks, spooning himself some ice-cream and grimacing at the sour taste. It's lemon.

"Strawberry," Jack replies, shoveling the substance in as fast as socially acceptable. It's good. He's still vague as to how they both ended up there, in an ice-cream parlor - Jack the Ripper and Springheeled Jack, one a notorious psychopathic murderer, the other a... Jack's thought trails off as he looks at Jack. He's not quite sure what he is. Sentient, at least. And deadly, very deadly.

He shrugs and continues to eat his ice-cream.

* * *

><p><em>Confusing. Very confusing. <em>


	40. Chapter 40

All she ever wanted was silence.

The noise has built up over the years, accumulated and gathered, invading her ears and her head and everything that she is. Her only escape from the unending sound is sleep, and even then, she dreams in screams; resonating bellows and shrill, piercing cries. When Darquesse comes out to play, she has no qualms about silencing the noisy masses; she enjoys it, even, loves the fact that she is destroying them, their lives, their _sound_.

She becomes more silent herself, taking care to make less sound, speaking only when she needs to. Her family pass off her strange reluctance to speak as adolescence; they don't like to think about the earphones that occupy her ears but never produce music. They don't know about the screaming, screeching, squawking voices that occupy her head, that she doesn't need music to make them worse.

Darquesse becomes more frequent, starts to become a part of her. When Darquesse kills, she creates a beautiful moment of silence that leaves her blissful and able to think clearly, if only for a second. Nobody understands why she does it. Sometimes, she doesn't herself, just has to give into the burning need inside of herself, the one that craves.

Craves silence.

* * *

><p><em>My rather strange attempt at Insane!Valkyrie. <em>


	41. Chapter 41

"My time has come," she speaks softly, solemn.

The methodic noise of a machine occupies the air. It stutters, rhythm broken, before shutting off completely. China sighs, pale and beautiful. She is accepting of her fate: she does not fight it. Something hard tumbles out of her hands and hits the floor with a muted thud. The television in front of her flickers in the darkness, casting shadows up the walls of her room. Everything is silent and still.

"I couldn't even beat my high score," she mutters before clambering out of bed. She picks up the controller from the floor, switches the television off and opens the curtains. China doesn't even want to contemplate what she might look like; she's been in bed, feigning illness for the past day. Fletcher (the idiot) had decided to introduce her to something called 'gaming'. Now she was completely hooked to the device he'd installed into her bedroom the day before.

She eyed the controller in her hand speculatively, before, "...maybe one more game."

* * *

><p><em>I imagine that as one of China's many (surprising) weaknesses. <em>


	42. Chapter 42

"You mustn't use sulfuric acid," Clarabelle chides, walking into the lab, a class of eager children trailing behind her.

"Why not, Miss Clarabelle?" The rogue student is curious and ever so slightly rebellious.

"Because it will burn your flesh and then we will be left with a terrible smell."

The boy looks at Clarabelle, then at his beaker; he looks like he is thinking, very slowly. "But surely we can spray some air freshener?" he pleads. Clarabelle stops staring at the ceiling and smiles at him like a light bulb has just gone off inside her peculiar head. "Link, you are a genius. Do carry on."

"I'm only eleven," Link says, but all of his class mates have crowded around to look at him pour sulfuric acid onto the lab counter (and Clarabelle has gone off to look for some air freshener).

* * *

><p><em>I'm rather sorry, but I died for a while.<em>

_Rusty, I am. Very rusty._


	43. Chapter 43

When Carol and Crystal were younger, they liked to pretend they were each other. Crystal would become Carol and Carol would become Crystal. It was a befuddling process, one that their mother and father never seemed to understand. They never knew who was who. More often than not, their mother wouldn't even speak to them directly. Their father didn't really care much, so long as they were behaving and not associating with weirdo's.

Carol and Crystal didn't know what a weirdo was, but they always nodded and smiled whenever their father said something involving the word. Sometimes, when they were alone, which was a lot, they would talk and discuss what it might mean. They didn't find out until they were eleven and the boy next door said they were weird for holding hands. They didn't see what was wrong with it, they genuinely didn't. Didn't all sisters do it?

The answer was no, they most certainly did not, and when the Mrs Johnson from next door was gossiping with Beryl, she might have accidentally let slip that she had caught Carol and Crystal being a bit overly intimate and, my oh my, didn't Beryl _know?_

It was later that evening that Beryl and Fergus spoke to their daughters concerning the matter. A gently spoken yet harsh worded explanation told the girls that even sisters shouldn't act like that together, and did they ever see Fergus snuggling up to Uncle Desmond all the time? No, they did not.

And so the girls grew up, always careful never to touch each other in the presence of their mother and father. Sometimes their eyes lingered on the other a little too long, or Crystal might brush Carol's shoulder in the hallway, but other than that, they were never affectionate with each other. _Especially_ with other people. They distanced themselves, furthering the gulf between them and those around them through adolescence, when insecurities were common and self loathing riddled their minds.

But somehow, they always found solace in the other, and they knew they always would. Privately, they were two completely different people, happy and content; so different to the snarky girls they usually were. They were always the happiest with their fingers intertwined, their hands fitting together perfectly, doing the very thing that had started it all.

* * *

><p><em>This is a big one.<em>

_Boom._


End file.
